Boots on the Ground
by Kirin Skydancer
Summary: Tommy and Brendan start putting their family back together
1. Chapter 1

Tommy didn't remember much about the court martial. He remembered that his shoulder hurt, and that the collar of the almost-to-tight dress shirt was starched and itchy. He remembered the sentencing though. He remembered that just fine. Which didn't mean that he wasn't surprised. A dishonorable discharge made sense. He'd been expecting that. Figured he deserved it, after running away. They didn't want cowards in the core.

But they hadn't thrown him under the bus. He'd been so surprised that he'd managed to focus through the drugs and the pain. His C.O. straightened wearily, and half growled the punishment. Finish his tour back in Iraq, at 1/3 his pay, as a private. It could have been worse. It should have been worse. But it wasn't.

It wasn't until Tommy was stumbling, blinking, off the plane, that CPO Hill said anything about the whole fiasco.

"I had to pull some serious strings to get you back, kid. Had to make them think you concocted that Sparta thing so we could find you. Don't go running of again." The usual bluntness almost made Tommy feel better about leaving. But Hill had a way of doing that, of making you feel like he really cared about you. Like some sort of father figure or something.

And that was it. Back to the grind: the food that wasn't worth shit; the endless, mindless tasks; the order. It was better when he was moving. That way he couldn't think about _before_. As soon as he slowed down he started to remember. It didn't take much. The right brush of hot wind, or the whistle of far off bombs, or the sound of the fighters flying overhead. Not all of the memories were bad, but even the good ones hurt too much. Like sitting around playing Halo with Cooke and Lao, complaining about the piss-poor food and the lack of good 'scenery'. Or poker with Espinoza, who was such a card shark that he could even play Manny out of a couple day's savings. Or soccer with some of the poor Iraqi kids in the green zone, where Greg Travis ate shit over the ball and ended up with a broken nose. But no matter how much he tried to lock the faces away they just kept coming back.

Even so, he kept it together for a good long time. Maybe his aim was a little off. Maybe he couldn't drive for the convoys anymore. Maybe he couldn't sleep. It didn't matter. He was with his brothers and they _got_ that. They didn't even really care that much that he'd run off. All that mattered was that he was back.

Then one day, on patrol in some small town with the freaking cold wind ripping at his face and the sounds of bombs somewhere way to close he lost it. The planes were too close; he hadn't slept in maybe a couple of days. They'd almost run down a group of kids who'd been standing in the middle of the road on the way there. He'd tried to shake of the gnawing sense of wrongness with the whole day, but he couldn't. The time the third bomb dropped did him, sliding down the wall they'd been using as cover and curling in on himself. Grabbing his head to keep all the mangles faces from breaking it apart.

Someone screaming "Man down, man down," and panicked footsteps and the taste of dust.

Manny blown to bits, O'Conner with his head half blown to shreds, Cook making that horrible whining noise before he fell so silent and still. And Manny. Oh God, Manny. Manny in three pieces with the damn photo of Pilar and the kids all soaked with blood and his eyes open and scared and staring behind his goggles.

When he came back he was starting at the roof of a Humvee and his heart of beating way to fast and Healey was leaning over him and taking about panic attacks and medical discharge and going home. And Tommy grabbed him and tried to say about fifty things at once and then gave up and mumbled about his old platoon until they got back to base.

The doctor looked him over and all that and then CPO Hill was there, looking sad and happy and thumping him on the back and talking about plane tickets and flight times and first class and does he have anyone to pick him up at the airport. And Tommy drops his head into his hands and just doesn't think until the wheels touch down on American soil.

He's had maybe one to many drinks on the flight back stateside, but it's dulled the pain of the nightmares enough so he doesn't wake up screaming. Anyway, he's sober by the time the flight lands. Sober enough to straighten his fatigues and run his fingers through his too-short hair. He was still chewing over being discharged. Honorably discharged. Maybe Hill had known this was coming all along. He'd pulled strings even since the court martial. After all, six months wasn't even half of the time Tommy would have spent in prison. And an _honorable _discharge, on top of that.

Tommy wandered in the direction of baggage carousal, trying to ignore the press of people and the stares from wearing a uniform in a civilian area. He almost missed the familiar voice.

"Tommy!" Someone was pushing through the crowd. "Hey, Tommy!"

He stopped, mostly from shock. Someone must have called Brendan from Iraq. Tommy hadn't been expecting a ride. Or a place to stay. Or…or any of this really. Mostly he felt the press of Manny's dog tags in his pocket, but they didn't feel quite so heavy today.

"Good to see you bro." Brendan grabbed Tommy's should, almost pulling him into a hug before he stopped short. "Damn, you look like shit." His hand dropped back to his side.

Tommy shrugged, relaxing now that Brendan had retreated a half step. The sheer number of people, the noise, the bright lights; he wanted to get out of the airport as soon as possible, so he could breathe.

"Lets go get your bag, alright?" Brendan's lips pressed into an almost frown when Tommy didn't really respond. He hadn't been expecting an especially warm reunion. Things were better between them. They'd talked a couple of times on Skype, written some letters, but he hadn't been expecting this. Tommy looked like he hadn't slept in days. His usual almost predatory stride was more of a stumble than anything else. And he was so quite. Not even a, "Good to see you, Bren." Nothing.

Brendan led Tommy through the fairly empty airport to grab the single duffle, and then out to the car.

"This new?" Tommy's voice rasped over the words, like he'd almost forgotten how to talk.

Brendan glanced away. The car was new, and he didn't feel great about buying something so extravagant. A Toyota forerunner, and only a couple of years old.

"Yeah. There was some money left after we paid off the house and made college funds for the girls. Tess and I…" Brendan noticed the extra snap of tension in Tommy's shoulders when he mentioned his wife, "decided to update the cars." Brendan ran his fingers over the smooth sliver paint, watching Tommy toss the duffle into the back. The only response he got was a grunt.

**A/N **

**I did some research on court maritals for desertion. Apparently you can get back into military service as long as you had intent to return. I might have smudged some of the rules. I couldn't see Tommy getting stuck in prison, but it's pretty obvious that he's not in a good metal state at the end of **_**Warrior**_**. I tried to create a third option. Reviews, as always, are welcome. I'll try to update soon, thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

In the almost hour long drive from the airport to the Conlon house the suburbs Brendan managed to extract a couple of full sentences from Tommy. Every one was like pulling teeth. Before the older man unlocked the doors he twisted to face the younger.

"You okay?"

"Fine."

Brendan sighed. "Look, Tess and I talked to Pop. We think it would be good if you stayed here for a while."

Tommy shrugged.

"Are you mad about Tess?" Brendan couldn't control himself anymore. Tess was his wife. The least Tommy could do was be polite.

For a second Tommy looked like he could hit Brendan, the tendons in his neck standing out and his fists clenched. "No. Long flight."

Brendan nodded, and caught himself reaching out to Tommy. "You want to talk about it?"

"Nothing to talk about." Tommy rotated his shoulders away from his brother, cutting off further conversation. Brendan sighed again, slapping the younger man on the shoulder lightly—and feeling Tommy's immediate, although gentle, counter on his own arm. At least that much hadn't changed.

"Come and meet the girls then." Brendan couldn't help smiling as they walked up to the door. Emily and Rosie were waiting, restrained by their mother, but not patiently. They dashed at him first, in a whirlwind of rushed hugs and kisses, and then practically tackled their uncle.

Brendan watched Tommy out of the corner of his eye. He wouldn't hurt the girls, no matter what kind of shit he'd been through. Tess, on the other hand, was going to need some convincing.

"He doesn't look good." Her voice was just above a whisper.

Brendan wrapped his arms around her, turning so they could both watch as the girls swarmed over Tommy. He was doing alright for the moment. At least he didn't look to grim.

"I know."

"Did he say how long he's going to stay?"

"He didn't say much. I'm gonna see if he wants to start training with Frank. Maybe he'll open up to him."

Tess pulled away. "You think he still wants to fight? Brendan, he just got sent home because of a," She glanced toward Tommy and the girls, now laying in a heap on the grass. Tommy was trying to extract himself, but the girls were clamoring for presents and for him to play house, and why didn't he come visit before and why was he living with mommy and daddy. "Panic attack." Tess finished, framing her husband's face with her hands to get his attention.

"He does better when he has something to focus on." Brendan kissed her knuckles before going to pull the girls away from their uncle.

Tommy only looked a little desperate as Brendan approached. Rosie was tugging at the buttons on his shirt. Emily was a little calmer, kicking at the remaining slush in the yard and chattering about the latest elementary school gossip. Tommy was attempting to untangle Rosie's hands from his shirt. His eyes were less vacant than they'd been on the ride home, but they were still missing…something. Brendan repressed a shudder when he remembered the fire in his brother's eyes during the fight. There had been so much anger in him then. But not anymore. There wasn't even the old light of curiosity, like he'd had when they were kids.

"Come on girls, let's go inside." Brendan pulled Rosie off Tommy, tilting his head toward the door.

Tess had already brought Tommy's duffle inside, setting it at the foot of the stairs where it wouldn't be in the way. There was an awkward moment when Brendan attempted to make introductions.

"Hey, Tommy. This is Tess. My wife." He felt the need to remind Tommy how much this woman meant to him. She wasn't just some high school fling. She was the love of his life. His other half, his…

"I know." Well at least Tommy said something. He even held out his hand for Tess to shake, looking her carefully up and down.

Brendan resisted the urge to pull Tess away. Tommy was just looking. He didn't even seem to realize what he was doing, because after the searching glance he looked away sheepishly.

"Sorry."

Tess frowned slightly, but shook her head. "Do you want to see your room? Dinner isn't going to be ready for a while."

Tommy nodded vaguely, and Brendan clapped him on the shoulder and started down the stairs.

"We did an addition over the garage, so we could have some more space, and turned this into a guest room." He didn't add that the rooms were designed with the hope that Tommy would come to stay in Chicago. It had taken Tess a long time to come around to the idea, with Sparta still so fresh in her mind. A month of tense dinners and sleeping on the couch for Brendan, but it was so worth it now that Tommy was actually here.

" 's nice." Tommy wandered around, exploring the pair of basement rooms. Brendan stood by one of the windows, just watching.

Tommy still didn't look right. Maybe he lost weight since Sparta. But that couldn't be it. His clothes weren't loose or anything.

Tommy interrupted Brendan's thoughts by slinging his duffle onto the bed with a thump and looking up expectantly.

"What?" Brendan took a couple of steps closer, dropping into the room's only chair.

Tommy shrugged, glancing away. "I'm waiting for the lecture."

"Lecture?" Brendan couldn't help feeling stupid, repeating Tommy's words like that.

"You know," Tommy hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck and glancing around at everything except Brendan, "the 'I can't believe you got sent home after all the bullshitting around it took to get back into the marines."

Brendan leaned toward his brother, restraining himself from actually reaching out to touch the man. "I'm not Pop, Tommy."

Tommy's quick glance spoke more than all the words he'd said since getting off the plane. There was so much hurt in his eyes. Brendan couldn't help himself. He swung over to the bed and wrapped an arm over his brother's shoulders.

He leaned his head against Tommy's, half expecting to be pushed away. "All that matters is that you're back in one piece."

Brendan waited until Tommy's shoulders slumped forward before he pulled away. He'd made his point, and his little brother had never really been good at being smothered. A single vivid memory had Brendan's lips twisting up into an involuntary smile.

"What are you grinning about?" Tommy leaned away, tensing up again.

Brendan actually laughed at the irony, and maybe the sudden release of tension because Tommy had just said a complete sentence. Tommy glared, crossing his arms. Brendan couldn't help himself. The look was the same petulant look that Tommy had always given him when they were kids and he'd wanted something.

"I was," Brendan gasped in laughter. "I was just remembering when Madison Little…Tried to kiss you…you must have been in…sixth grade or something." Brendan covered his mouth and forced himself to stop laughing.

Tommy looked blank for a good five seconds, then his expression shifted to something that was almost amused. It was better than nothing, and certainly better than the anger that Brendan had still been half expecting.

"Yeah?"

Brendan made an attempt to straighten out his face before he answered. "She grabbed you outside of school. You looked like you were about to, I dunno, drop right through the sidewalk. It was so funny."

Tommy arched a scared eyebrow. "Right."

Brendan shrugged, "I guess it's a good thing you were just a wrestler back in the bad." He thought about his next sentence for a second, wondering if he was pushing too hard. But Tommy was talking for the moment, which was worth the trouble it might cause. " 'Cause your lack of skill with the ladies might have turned out badly for her, you know?"

"That didn't make any sense."

"Yeah, never mind." He'd managed to bite his tongue before he'd said something that Tommy might have taken badly. He wouldn't like being told that he looked like he could have shoved Madison because he looked so scared. That was to much like something that Pop would have done, and Tommy wouldn't…ever doing something like that. "Why don't you unpack or something. Dinner's gonna be in a while."

Tommy nodded, sliding off the bed and tossing the duffle onto the dresser. "Alright."

Brendan glanced over his shoulder on the way up the stairs. It was good to see Tommy again, in the house, looking calm enough. A year ago he wouldn't have even imagined ever seeing his brother again.


End file.
